


we've still got time

by snuffleslove



Series: falling slowly [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, American!AU, Established Relationship, F/M, Kidfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuffleslove/pseuds/snuffleslove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Zayn feels numb. There's a low pulse of desperation in his fingertips, like he's trying to catch smoke with his bare hands, keep it close to him. He tries to imagine a lifetime without tangling his hands in Mack's curls or being held by Liam, strong hands wrapped around him from behind and </i>can't<i>. Weeks have passed and Zayn can still remember perfectly the way Liam's breath feels tickling his ear, the way his laugh shakes through his entire body, the way he flushes behind his neck when Zayn teases him. </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Worth fighting for? he thinks. He's never been more sure of anything in his life. </i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or: it's been about five years since zayn stumbled into liam and mack and the rest of his family, and a whole lot has changed since then. </p><p>sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/975650">take this sinking boat and point it home</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	we've still got time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [robpatFF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robpatFF/gifts).



> what started out as a simple timestamp turned into like 20k i'm not exactly sure how. 
> 
> for morgan, for answering her text messages.

Zayn is nervous. Sweaty palmed, stomach in your butt nervous. And not just because in a few minutes his plane's about to dip down in altitude and attempt to land on a runway a few yards wide. Normally that's enough to get his pulse racing. 

No, today he's nervous because he's coming _home_ , and as much of a relief as that word offers him, he's nervous because - 

"Pardon me, sir," says a voice above him. Immediately he bottles up his emotions, spreads a smile onto his face in a way that has become instinct over the past few months. 

"Hello," he says, looking up. It's a flight attendant, and she looks about as nervous as he feels, hands wringing around a pad of paper and pen. 

"Sorry - sorry to bother you Mr. Malik - " 

"Zayn," Zayn interrupts, wrinkling his nose a little. She huffs out a laugh. 

"Zayn, right. Sorry. I just. I know this is all very unprofessional it's just - " 

Zayn reaches for the pad of paper in her hand, guessing where this is going. It's not the first time this has happened and he doesn't mind, honestly. 

"Oh, thank you," she says, her next words coming out in a rush of relief, "It's just, my daughter. She's a huge fan. And I couldn't take her to a concert this year and she'll be so thrilled if - "

"What's her name?" Zayn asks kindly. 

"Isabelle," the woman beams, "Gosh you're about to make me the best mother on the planet - " 

Zayn laughs. 

"Glad to be of service," he jots down a quick note and a flourished signature and then hands her back the pad of paper. 

"Thanks," she says sincerely, then she clears her throat, "Sorry, I'm going to have to ask you to raise your seat up, we're starting descent." 

Zayn sends her a mock glare. 

"Oh alright," he says, smiling a little when she sends him an innocent grin, seemingly at ease now. 

When she's gone, Zayn deflates, sinks low into his chair and closes his eyes, thinking about the woman's daughter. She's probably a little bit older than Mack, most of his fans are. He wonders if she's into ballet like Mack is or whether she plays a sport instead. His heart clenches painfully and he forces himself to open his eyes, pull out his sketch book. It's almost full, he'll have to buy another one soon; for now he just flips through it, the pages and pages of rough sketches of young curly haired girls and shy smiles and those same crinkly brown eyes. 

The most recent one is a portrait of Liam with his lip between his teeth and his eyes half lidded, the way he'd looked in a dream Zayn had had. Zayn thumbs his finger down the line of Liam's neck to smudge it, frowning when he's not quite satisfied with the effect. He'd woken up in the middle of the night with the image and fallen asleep again over the half completed drawing. It hadn't been the first time. 

He sighs. Closes the book and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes to try and push back the nerves that have settled again like an _ache_. God, he has so many aches these days. An ache in his bones from sleeping on buses and an ache in his throat from the constant performing and an ache in his heart from not having spoken properly to Liam in days. 

He thinks back to the last conversation they'd had and the ache tightens agonizingly. He'd been high off his last show, adrenaline making his blood pump fast and his limbs tremble with a wild energy and the first thing he'd done when he'd gotten back to the bus was dial up Liam. 

Liam had answered almost immediately: they'd had a pretty solid routine. Zayn sang his heart out to a thousand people, voice going hoarse and ears ringing, and then he retreated to Liam and the sleepy comfort he offered. Usually Mack stayed up to say good night, and then once she was tucked in, Zayn would peer eagerly into the screen at Liam, eyes tracing the way his hands would if they could. Their conversation would start out jittery, Zayn still keyed up on the show, Liam a quiet listener to _god you should have heard them, Li, so fucking loud_ and _the opener could have gone better but i think i managed to patch it up by the end_ and _fuck i want you so bad right now_. 

And on his come down, Liam would whisper quiet reassurances, _i miss you too_ and _i'm sure you were brilliant_ and _i bet they couldn't take their eyes off you_. And he would tell Zayn what Mack ate for lunch and what went on in the classes he taught and _i'm never letting Mack go to high school, Zayn, ever_. Zayn would nod sleepily, useless on the other side of the rush, a slow languid smile coloring his eyes fond. 

_sleep_ Liam would insist softly, biting his lip to hide his smile, and Zayn would, quiet and comfortable and aching for Liam's strong arms around him. 

This night though. This night Mack had been no where to be found and when Zayn had asked about it, Liam had bit his lip _nervously_. 

"I put her to bed, Zayn," he'd said. Zayn had checked the time and then frowned. 

"S'not that late though - " 

"Listen," Liam had interrupted. "You should. You should stop this. Stop calling every night and spending every minute you're not performing with your eyes glued to your phone. You should be exploring new places and writing music and meeting new people and - " 

Zayn had stared at him like he'd been speaking a foreign language. 

"Li?" he'd asked tentatively, "Li - is something wrong?" 

"No, just," Liam's eyes had gone guarded and his voice defensive, "You're getting this brilliant opportunity to travel and do what you love and you should take advantage of it, Zayn. You don't have to keep trying to keep up this facade that you're home. We can manage without you." 

"But I - " Zayn had cut off then. He'd wanted to say that _he_ couldn't manage without Liam, that _he_ needed to see his face every night, that otherwise, he wasn't sure he could make it through more months of this. But he'd stopped himself. It was pretty clear what Liam wanted. "Okay," he'd said instead, fighting to keep his voice steady, "Okay. But you'll call me if you need me?" 

Liam had nodded, but even with the grainy picture Zayn could see the way he kept his eyes averted. 

He hadn't called. Not since that night. And Zayn had sent a few texts but he'd given up when all he'd gotten in return were a few one word responses. 

So now he's going home and he's _frightened_. What if Liam had decided he'd had enough? What if he grew weary of trying to raise Mack in a foreign city by himself? What if he wanted to go back home to his mom and Louis and people who could love him better than Zayn could? What if he was sick of the press and the nosiness and the ridiculous pressure from his fans? 

What if he's just waiting until Zayn gets back so he can end it properly? 

"Zayn?" a thin fingered hand waves in front of him and Zayn looks up to find Lou Teasdale, make up artist and best friend, leaning over him. Her blonde hair is tied in a knot on top of her head and her own eyeliner is smudged at the edges. When she sees his face she gives him a small gentle smile. "Oh Zayn, it's going to be _alright_." 

"Yeah," Zayn chokes out, miserable, "Yeah, I'm fine, Lou. What's up?" 

She stares at him for a moment and then shakes her head. 

"We've landed," she informs him, gesturing out his window, "They want you out first so they can avoid the - chaos." 

"Right," Zayn clears his throat, "Sorry I'll just - " 

"Here, give me that," she nods towards his sketchbook, holding out a hand. Zayn flushes. She knows what's in it, but that doesn't make it any less embarrassing. 

"Sorry," he says again, giving it to her and getting up. When he reaches for his duffel from the overhead bin, she tugs on his shirt where it's ridden up. 

"Careful," she teases playfully, "Don't want anyone swooning." 

"Shut up," Zayn mumbles, but he's smiling a little more, watching as she tucks his sketchbook away into his duffel with careful hands. "Thanks," he says feelingly.

"Don't mention it," she smiles, "Now, c'mon, Malik, you're holding everyone up." 

When they get off the plane their baggage is waiting for them, along with Paul and the rest of Zayn's small security detail. 

"Gotta wait until they've got the crowd under control outside the airport before pulling up the limo," Paul informs him, gesturing to seats for him and Lou and rest of his crew, "Shouldn't be long. S'a lot easier when Mack and Liam aren't here." 

"What - ?" Zayn asks, freezing. Paul gives him a funny look.

"Liam called ahead, said it might be easier if he and Mack just stayed home this time, what with the crowds you've been attracting recently. I have to say I agree with him - " he trails off, studying Zayn carefully. "Thought he would have told you." 

"No, right, yeah," Zayn says, swallowing hard. Besides him, Lou presses a firm weight into his side, "We've been missing each other on the phone for a couple days, that must have been what he meant to tell me," he says lamely. It's not that he doesn't trust Paul, but lying feels easier than admitting the truth. 

Paul nods; if he's skeptical he doesn't say anything. 

"Alright, take some rest, I'll let you know when you've got the clear." 

When he's gone, Zayn turns to Lou, desperate. 

"I'm sorry," is all she can offer him though, with kind eyes and a soft smile that turns her features sad, "I'm sorry sweetie, I wish I knew what was going on in his head - " 

"Should I," he gulps, forces himself to continue, "Should I ask him if he wants me to stay at a hotel for now?" 

Lou frowns, puts her hands on her hips and stares him down. She barely comes up to his shoulders but when she's like this, stubborn and relentless, Zayn hardly notices.

"Zayn Malik you are not giving up. You _can't_. You love him. This is the man that trusted you with his daughter, that moved away from his family and everything he knew to be with you. This is the man who can put a smile on your face with two words, calm you down before a show, make you believe you're everything. You don't give up on love like that, Z. I won't let you." 

"But what if he - " 

"At least you'll have tried," Lou cuts him off firmly. Zayn feels numb. There's a low pulse of desperation in his fingertips, like he's trying to catch smoke with his bare hands, keep it close to him. He tries to imagine a lifetime without tangling his hands in Mack's curls or being held by Liam, strong hands wrapped around him from behind and _can't_. Weeks have passed and Zayn can still remember perfectly the way Liam's breath feels tickling his ear, the way his laugh shakes through his entire body, the way he flushes behind his neck when Zayn teases him. 

Worth fighting for? he thinks. He's never been more sure of anything in his life. 

"Alright," he says faintly, biting his lip. 

"You owe yourselves a conversation, face to face," she says, kind but firm, "Even if it'll be the hardest thing you have to do."

 

With Lou's words echoing in his head, Zayn summons the courage to let himself into their modest house in a quiet neighborhood in Long Island. They've only lived here a year but it's already starting to feel like home: there're spots on the carpet where Mack's spilled things, a healthy clutter of keys and coins on the table, and in the foyer there's an unfinished mural on the wall that Zayn had started months ago, this one abstract swirls of color. He'd promised Mack that he'd finish the one in her room while he was on break this time. She's moved on to the Avengers and she wants a life sized Ironman. Zayn wonders now if he'll ever get to it. 

Swallowing the thought, he calls out -

"Hello?" his voice cracks around the word and he clears his throat, "I'm - home?" 

From the kitchen there's a squeal and a crash and then he hears soft footsteps racing towards him. He's barely managed to put down his bags before Mack is jumping into him arms with an excited _Zayn, you're back!_

Zayn laughs into her hair, pulls her in closer. She's grown a lot taller in the past few years, hair dusted blonde and falling in big curls to her waist and a smile that is exactly like her father's, crinkly eyed and kind. Zayn closes his eyes, breathes her in greedily. 

"Missed you so much," she says when Zayn sets her down. 

"Missed _you_ ," Zayn chokes out, tugging her in for another hug, "God have you gotten taller? Do they stretch you out in ballet class or what?" 

She giggles. 

"Maybe you've shrunk," she teases. Zayn sticks his tongue out at her. 

"Must be the lack of sleep - " he trails off. Liam's appeared in the doorway to watch them. He's dressed in his favorite pair of jeans and Zayn's own tee, tight around his shoulders and waist. He's got two whole inches on Zayn but he still manages to duck his head, look up at Zayn from beneath his eyelashes, hands shoved into his pockets and shoulders hunched. 

He looks so beautiful and Mack is stepping back with a knowing smile and suddenly Zayn is forgetting everything that's happened and closing the gap between them in two strides. 

"Liam," he breathes out and then he's drawing him in, their bodies slotting together so naturally his eyes fill with tears. He feels Liam draw a shuddery breath, nose into his neck. 

"Welcome home," he mumbles, tightening his hold on Zayn and fisting his hands in Zayn's jacket. 

"Dad, you're crushing him," Mack exclaims, tugging on Zayn. "C'mon, he's got to be alive to eat the dinner we've made." 

" _We_ made?" Liam protests indignantly, pulling away slightly. Zayn ducks his head to swipe at his eyes, and when he looks back up he finds Liam's staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. 

"I cut the vegetables," Mack is defending and Zayn turns away from Liam's scrutiny to look down at her.

"You made me dinner?" he asks, ruffling up her curls. 

"And cake," she tells him, eyes lighting up, "Your favorite, chocolate and banana pudding." 

"Really?" Zayn looks up at Liam who's smiling a little, cheeks flushed. If he senses Zayn's confusion he doesn't say anything, just nods a little, leading them into the kitchen without another word. 

There are fresh flowers and lit candles and dinner's already been spread out on the dining table, hot chicken parmesan and a bottle of wine. 

"This is for me?" Zayn asks incredulously, looking around. He'd thought, well. He'd thought Liam was going to kick him out and instead he's made him dinner and bought him flowers? He looks to Liam for some kind of answer but Liam won't meet his eye. 

"No it's for me," Mack giggles. "Course it's for you you donut, who else would it be?" 

Zayn shakes himself internally, offers Mack a big smile. 

"How'd you know hydrangeas are my favorite?" 

She rolls her eyes. 

"Because they're Daddy's favorite too. You two are gross." 

"We should eat," Liam says quickly and his voice sounds odd and forced, "Before it gets cold." 

Zayn nods slowly. 

"I'm famished," he agrees. He pulls out a chair for Mack who giggles and takes a seat, helping herself to bread and waiting for Liam to serve her pasta. 

Dinner's soundtrack is a constant stream of chatter from Mack. She's just had her Christmas play at school and she tells Zayn about the costumes and the rehearsals and this one girl who was a total brat and told everyone that Mack had only gotten her part because she knew Zayn. 

At this Zayn frowns, opens his mouth to apologize, but Mack's shaking her head. 

"Don't worry Zayn, I know it's because she can't play guitar for beans - " 

"Mack," Liam scolds. It's the first thing he's said since they sat down; mostly he's been serious smiles and guarded eyes and Zayn's stomach is in knots because for the first time in a long time he has no idea what Liam's thinking. 

Mack shrugs her dad off, grinning at Zayn. 

"What?" she asks innocently, "It's the truth." 

"Maybe," Liam says, pointedly not looking at Zayn, "But not everyone's been lucky enough to have a teacher like Zayn." 

And if Mack wasn't there, Zayn would have shaken Liam. Or kissed him. 

"You're right," Mack is saying contritely, "Sorry Daddy." 

"S'alright. Alright go on, wash up, it's past your bedtime and we both have school tomorrow." 

When she's done putting away her dishes she returns for goodnight kisses. Zayn can't help his smile as he watches Liam pull his daughter in for a hug and a kiss to her forehead, hand cupping her cheek as he wishes her sweet dreams. 

"Goodnight, Zayn," she says, and he bends to let her press a kiss to his cheek, "I love you." 

"Love you, Mackaroo," he says, "Thanks for the cake, it was delicious." She scrunches up her nose at the old nickname but allows it, throwing him a grin over her shoulder as she retreats to her room. 

When she's gone, Liam sets about clearing the dishes. They work in silence, the tension in the room drawing sharp lines down Zayn's spine.

When they've finished, Zayn takes a deep breath, opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Liam cuts him off. 

"More wine?" he asks. He doesn't wait for Zayn's answer, just pours for both of them. 

"Sure," Zayn says quietly, taking the proffered glass and following Liam into their sitting room. Liam takes the armchair and Zayn takes the loveseat, tries not to think about the amount of nights they'd spent curled up together, whispering quietly into each others' mouths and pressing hands underneath shirts. He determinedly doesn't think about the time they couldn't stop themselves from making love on the thick rug beneath their feet, Zayn muffling Liam's moans into his palm as he'd fingered him open, fucked up him through. 

"How was your trip?" Liam asks then. Zayn looks up, startled out of his thoughts. 

"Hmm?" he hums, "It was fine," he shrugs, "Just stage after stage, really." He probably could have made more of it but, he'd always hoped one day he'd be able to take Mack and Liam with him, and they'd go to Disney World and see the Grand Canyon and walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. That would be a proper trip. "Nothing to report," he says finally. 

"Oh," Liam says in a small voice, and Zayn wants to settle into his lap, kiss him until he can taste the emotion behind his eyes. 

"Tell me about home," Zayn demands instead, eager to hear what he's missed. "How was Mack's play?" 

Liam blinks slowly. Zayn can almost see the way he shakes himself. 

"Really great," Liam says finally, offering Zayn a weak smile, "She really was the star up there. The choir director says she has a good ear and a lot of potential." 

"She gets that from you," Zayn says warmly, "And maybe a little bit from me too," he adds, voice turning a little cheeky. 

For a moment, Zayn can trace the Liam he used to know, full smiles and raw longing. And then, he's gone, replaced by a Liam that only has distance and guarded features for Zayn. 

"She's had a good teacher," Liam says, voice thick. Zayn shrugs, throat tight. 

"She'd do fine without me," he says. _So would you, it seems_ , he's tempted to add. Liam's curled in on himself once more, impossibly small with his bare feet tucked underneath him and his shoulders turned in. Zayn bites his tongue, "What's um. What's the plan for Christmas holidays?" he asks, fishing for a safe topic, "Do you have to go to work tomorrow?" 

"Yeah, um, tomorrow's last day," Liam says, jumping at the out Zayn offers him, "And then our flight's the day after. The twenty third morning. Actually I should probably get to bed. Long day tomorrow and all." 

"Right," Zayn manages, standing when Liam stands. 

"Do you want to um. You left your duffel in the hall, do you need it?" 

Zayn shakes his head, feeling sick watching the way Liam moves, stiff and unsure. 

The bedroom is the same way Zayn left it. He'd half expected Liam to have packed all his stuff into a box or something, but his hair products are still on the dresser and his earrings lie in a box on the nightstand and his cologne remains next to Liam's in front of the mirror. 

One of his drawers is open though, and when Zayn looks closer, he realizes it's half empty. 

"Sorry," Liam mumbles, when he comes out of the bathroom and realizes where Zayn's attention is. "I um. I wore a few of your clothes. You know. When I was too lazy to do the wash," his eyes are on his hands that flex and fidget with the hem of his shirt. Zayn's shirt. 

"S'okay," Zayn says, dry-mouthed, "Took a few of your things on tour as well so I suppose we're even." 

"Right," Liam says. He runs a hand through his hair, distressed, and then begins to take off his clothes. 

Before, Zayn would bat his hands away, take his clothes off for him, kiss every new inch of bare skin he revealed. Now he averts his eyes, unsure of whether he's allowed to look. He focuses on unbuttoning his own shirt, tugging off his jeans. When he looks up, Liam's stripped down to his boxers and he's looking anywhere but at Zayn, teeth tearing at his bottom lip. 

"Do you want," Zayn's voice breaks and he digs his fingernails into his palms to keep the rush of panic at bay, forces out the question, "Do you want me to sleep in the guest room?" 

He thinks he'll die if Liam says yes. 

Liam looks up at him, shocked and pale. 

" _No_ ," he says immediately, "No, I - fuck. Please don't," he whispers, wringing his hands together. 

Zayn doesn't trust his knees not to buckle under the heavy weight of relief. He shuts the light off without a word. 

After a minute, Liam gets into bed with him, his weight dipping the bed so familiarly Zayn's chest aches with it. He can feel Liam settle on his back, stretch out his limbs, and fuck this is the worst kind of torture, hearing the shallow rhythm of his breath and not being able to run hands along his sides, feel the rise and fall of his ribs. 

" _Li_ ," he begs, desperate. Under the covers, he reaches for Liam, twines their hands together, "Li, _please_ \- " 

Liam turns then, pulls Zayn into him so their feet tangle and Zayn's head fits underneath Liam's chin. Zayn presses blunt nails into Liam's chest, trying to find an anchor in his bare skin, and Liam tightens his hold. 

Zayn doesn't even realize he's trembling until Liam runs a hand down his spine, whispers soothing nothings into his hair. 

"Zayn, s'alright," he murmurs, "You're alright." 

It takes a long while for Zayn to fall asleep. Liam doesn't loosen his hold. 

 

Zayn wakes with Liam's arms tight around him still, his head pillowed on Liam's chest and their hands intertwined. The sun hasn't risen yet but he can't seem to find sleep again. He studies Liam's face in the half-dark. There are bags under his eyes, and Zayn can see a hint of shadow across his chin and he longs to run his hands through the course hairs there, feel them rough against his own face as he steals a kiss, but he doesn't want to wake Liam. Sleeping Liam seems to want him still, but he's not sure where he stands with Awake Liam. 

Finally, he shifts a little, testing the depth of Liam's unconsciousness. He really has to pee, and maybe he can make breakfast for Liam and Mack, figure out if he remembers his way around their kitchen still. 

Liam's limbs remain heavy around him and Zayn smiles a little: Liam's always been a demanding cuddler, drawing Zayn's sweaty sticky body into him even on the hottest of days. It took him awhile to get used to it; now he's hardly able to sleep without him. 

He wiggles a little more, moving gently out of Liam's grasp and tucking the covers in around him. Liam makes a soft noise of protest but doesn't wake up, turning in on the bit of warmth Zayn's left behind. 

For a long moment, Zayn just watches him, shivering slightly. They can fix this, right? Whatever's on Liam's mind, whatever's bothering him - Zayn will fix it. There isn't anything he wouldn't do for this boy who found him singing on the corner of Walt and Canary five years ago, wide eyed and eager and honest. 

He shakes himself a little. He can start by making breakfast. That can only help, right? He grabs an old pair of sweatpants and one of Liam's old sweatshirts, pushing the sleeves to his elbows. Warm again, he makes his way quietly down to the kitchen to get started. 

 

"Zayn?" Liam's voice is high and strangled and Zayn nearly drops the pancake he's attempting to flick. 

"In here," he calls. Liam appears in the doorway. He's got on sweats but they lay twisted on his hips and he hasn't bothered with a shirt even though Zayn can see the way his skin goosebumps from here. His hair is tousled and stands up on end and the sight is so painfully familiar Zayn wants to scream. He studies Liam. There's a residual panic in his eyes as they dart around the kitchen, take in Zayn with his apron and flour in his hair. "What's wrong?" he asks cautiously. 

"No, nothing. I thought you'd - " he shakes his head, "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. What's all this?" 

Zayn wants to tell him it _does_ matter. Wants to cup hands along his jaw, tilt his head down and kiss him properly, persuade him with his tongue. Wants to palm down his arms to smooth out the bumps, press him into the countertop and settle in the vee of his legs like he belongs there.

"Pancakes," he says with a forced smile, gesturing to the neat stack of pancakes. 

"Did someone say pancakes?" Mack says excitedly from the doorway. She's in her pajamas still, eyes half lidded with lingering sleepiness, but her mouth is curved up in a happy smile, and she crosses the room to wrap small arms around Zayn's waist. 

"I don't normally eat breakfast," Liam mutters, "And Mack normally takes a bagel - " 

"But Daddy - " 

"No buts. You know what we talked about. If I send you to school with sugar in your belly all your teachers will complain that you can't sit still." 

"But - "

Zayn tugs at a stray curl. 

"What if we had them for dinner later tonight?" he asks gently, looking to Liam for approval. After a moment Liam nods tersely, glancing away. "That would be a good compromise, wouldn't it?"

"Fine," Mack says, crossing her arms, "But Daddy's being mean." 

"He's just being a good Daddy," Zayn tells her firmly. He sinks down to one knee so he can look her in the eye. "Hey, I've got to go into the studio today. Wanna come with me, huh Mackaroo? I could pick you up from school - " 

"I don't think that's a good idea," Liam interjects, even as Mack begins to bounce on her feet with excitement, "You're - You can't go to her school you'll cause a ruckus they're not prepared to deal with. And besides Mack, you've got ballet after school today." 

"Oh," her face falls a little, and then she brightens again, "Last class before Christmas today," she tells Zayn excitedly, "That means the older kids are going to come in a teach us a bit of the Nutcracker parts!" 

"Well that's awfully exciting," Zayn says, tucking away the sting in Liam's words. He knows Liam's right, knows he can hardly go anywhere without attracting a bit of a crowd. And it wouldn't be fair to the school and its staff. Still, it hurts. 

"Maybe they'll let me be the sugar plum fairy," she says, twirling clumsily in the small space and nearly knocking over the bowl full of batter, "I am sorry I can't come into the studio with you," she adds, "Next time?" 

"Get ready for school, sweetheart," Liam says with a tired smile, sinking into a chair.

"I'm sorry," Zayn tells Liam when she's pranced out of the kitchen, "I didn't mean to - " he gestures around at the pancakes.

"You've been gone a long time," is all Liam says, looking at his hands. 

"Yeah," Zayn croaks, feeling sick. Their kitchen suddenly feels small, walls closing in on Zayn as the heat rushes to his face. 

The sound of the coffeemaker cuts through then and Zayn forces himself to breathe, "Do you still drink coffee?" 

After a moment Liam nods. 

"A drop of cream, two sugars?" he confirms. Liam sighs. 

"Yeah, thanks," he mumbles and Zayn fights the urge to grin triumphantly. He hasn't been gone that long, he thinks stubbornly, placing the steaming mug in front of Liam. He squeezes Liam's fingers gently and then lets go. 

"I'll stay out of your way, yeah?" and then he's gone. 

 

He spends the morning answering emails and on the phone with his management team, confirming dates and interviews and appearances. He argues a little with the bosses, but finally he gets permission to stay at home for a little while, play with some studio time, meet with a few interested collaborators. It won't be a workless break, but at least he'll be home. 

In the afternoon he steps out to drive to the studio. There're a few paps outside the house so he keeps his hood up and plasters a tight smile onto his face and elbows past them to get to his car, allowing himself only a second to marvel at the whole thing. It's not as bad as he's used to at least, and for that he's grateful. 

He doesn't have the heart to do any samples or hear any material he recorded played back for him, but he meets with his producer, Ray, lets him talk through the logistics of the next few weeks. He'd offered Niall the job, but Niall had declined, saying he'd rather work scouting new talent like Zayn. Later Zayn had gotten him to confess that he wanted to stay back to keep Karen company. They go back and visit the family as often as then can, whenever Zayn is on break and Liam and Mack have holidays from school; the flight's a relatively short one and without money as a limiting factor anymore, it's not a difficult trip, but Zayn still feels guilty about leaving. He knows Liam misses them terribly, even though he'll only admit it into Zayn's skin late at night. 

Liam never complained about the move though, not once. When Zayn brought him the news a year ago, that the label was ready to move him and his family to New York, Liam had kissed him soundly, told him how proud of him he was, that he'd be honored to come with him. They'd spent months designing the house, taking care to map out the perfect space for themselves, a place the three of them could grow into, eventually call home: wooden floors and a large fireplace and a kitchen that faced the sunrise. 

They'd checked and rechecked the school district for Mack, secured Liam a job, and then flown out the entire family for the housewarming party. And Zayn had surprised Liam with a baby grand piano for him to play whenever he wanted. Liam had had to press his face to Harry's shoulder to hide his tears.

And they used to play together as often as they could, waiting for Mack to go to sleep before bringing out old sheet music to sightread. Niall had eventually taught Zayn to read music properly, and Liam would help Zayn practice, encouraging him to make up harmonies to his piano melodies, fingers dancing along the keys until they grew distracted, danced along Zayn instead. 

He'll remind Liam of that, Zayn thinks to himself determinedly. He'll remind Liam of the way they've grown together. If that doesn't bring Liam back to him, he doesn't know what will. 

"Zayn?" 

Zayn blinks. 

"Sorry," he says, frowning apologetically at Chloe, one of the members of his PR team, "Got distracted."

"S'alright," she says, eyes bright with mirth, "Suppose you want to get back to that hunk of yours, huh?" 

Chloe spent a lot of time with Liam and Mack in the early days, briefing them about publicity procedures and press. She'd grown very fond of both him and Mack, teasing Zayn constantly about it. But it was a small price to pay for her good work, diverting attention away from his family and focusing it on his music, fully understanding how important it was to Zayn.

" _Zayn_ ," she says again, snapping her fingers this time, "Is there something wrong?" 

"No, I - " he rubs his hands against his jeans, "I was just thinking about how grateful I am for you," he says, smiling with his tongue behind his teeth.

She waves a hand. 

"Stop that, that charm won't work on me," but she's smiling too, and she reaches out and squeezes Zayn's forearm gently, "Anyway I was just saying that we may have leaked it to the press that you were taking and Liam and Mack to Disney World this year, so hopefully you won't have any trouble with the paps." 

"See," he leans in to press a kiss to her cheek, "Totally grateful." 

"Glad I can help," she tells him sincerely, "Happy Christmas, Zayn." 

"Happy Christmas, Chloe, thanks for putting up with me."

"Eh," she tilts her head to one side, "The pay is pretty good," she teases. 

 

Liam and Mack aren't home by the time Zayn gets back but there's a slightly bigger group of people outside his house, fans and papparazi alike, so Zayn stops to sign a few autographs and take a few pictures before he urges them as kindly as he can to _go home_. 

When he finally makes it inside, he heads straight for the refuge of his office. It's in the far side corner of the house with two walls made entirely of windows, built so Zayn can get the best lighting possible at all hours of the day. On one wall hangs a row of guitars, on the other, a bunch of canvases and easels and paintbrushes. 

Liam had had only one request they'd picked out the room for Zayn, and he'd whispered it into Zayn's mouth when they'd christened the place, settling down on the couch and pulling Zayn in by the back of his knees so Zayn straddled him. 

"Gonna paint me once right?" he'd demanded, tugging at Zayn's lower lip. Zayn had arched into Liam, rolling their hips together. 

"Only if you'll pose nude," Zayn had informed him breathlessly, laughing when Liam had groaned, exasperation lined with arousal, "What?" he'd asked innocently, it'd be a disservice to do you with clothes on." 

"Then don't," Liam had growled softly, tugging at Zayn's tee.

Zayn had moaned, surprised and hot blooded. 

"There're windows," he'd protested, pressing close. In one moment, Liam had placed a hand behind his neck and on his thigh, twisting them so Zayn'd lay flat on the couch. 

"So?" Liam had coaxed gently, teeth a sharp contrast against his neck. He'd fucked into Zayn slow that night, twisting his hips and leaving his cock untouched until Zayn begged him for release, mouth hanging open, eyes twisted shut. 

 

Now Zayn flinches away from the couch, fetches his sketchbook instead and settles in a chair by the west window. He opens to his most recent sketch of Liam, determined to complete it, tongue between his teeth as he works. 

He must get lost in it because the next time he's looking up it's an hour and a half later and he can hear Liam and Mack coming in through the door. He hurriedly closes the sketchbook and meets them out in the hall. Mack looks exhilarated, Liam looks harried. 

"Something the matter?" Zayn asks cautiously. Mack squeezes past his legs into his studio and Zayn moves aside distractedly, all focus on Liam. 

"Yeah," Liam says, "Freaking papparazi," he curses. 

"Is it this bad all the time?" Zayn asks amusedly. Liam lifts up his shoulders and then drops them heavily. 

"It's worse when you're here," he mutters. Zayn stutters at his words, eyes widening as the hurt courses through him. Liam must realizes how he sounded because he flushes, opens his mouth to apologize, maybe, but the Mack is pushing her way back into the hallway.

"They asked me whether I was glad you were home. I said _duh_ , because you're my best friend," Mack says importantly. Above her, Liam looks away, "Hey Zayn," she asks, tugging at his shirt, "What is this?" 

She's holding Zayn's sketchbook from tour and when Zayn notices he goes a bright red. 

"Err, nothing, Mack," he says hurriedly, "I'll show you later sometime, yeah?" 

She shrugs complacently. 

"Ok Zayn," she says, drawing out the 'O' until it sounds like she's rolling her eyes at him, "C'mon Daddy, dinner time right? I'm starved." She's still wearing her ballet outfit and she twirls down the hall, hands coming around gracefully to frame her movements. 

When Zayn looks back at Liam, he looks curious too, but it's more hesitant on Liam, brown eyes cautious, like he hasn't spent the last five years of his life living in Zayn's _bed_.

"What're you working on?" he asks. 

Zayn shrugs, miserable and strung out. 

"Nothing. It's. It's nothing." 

"Oh," Liam says, eyes following his foot as it traces a line down their wooden floor. And this is an undercurrent of Liam that Zayn recognizes, has seen before. A Liam that wants more of Zayn but is afraid to ask, thinks he still has to earn it. 

"Here," Zayn hands him the book, then - "Don't freak, okay?" because he's pretty sure he left behind creepy after the first five pages.

Liam opens the book carefully, hands finding their place deliberately on the pages like he's afraid to ruin it. 

"It's not - " Zayn starts, casting about for an explanation that won't leave Zayn feeling open and bruised. He gives up as he watches Liam's eyes widen with realization. 

"This is. This is just us," he stammers out, looking up at Zayn incredulously. "I don't - _Why_?"

"There's nothing _just_ about either of you," Zayn mutters, and then he shoves his hands in his pockets. "It's just. I got lonely a lot, you know? And. It helped." 

"There are - there are dozens of drawings in here - "

"I know," Zayn says, flushing. "It's weird, I know. I'm sorry." 

He watches as Liam's hand traces a drawing of Mack. She's looking out into the distance, eyes scrunched up the way Liam's do when they find something so unbelievably funny it does them in. She's got small hands on her belly and laugh lines around her mouth and her hair almost moves with the force of her giddiness, happiness running down every stroke of pencil. 

It's one of Zayn's favorites, if he's allowed to have favorites of his own work. 

Liam shakes his head after a moment. 

"It helped?" he asks, looking up at Zayn with furrowed brows. Zayn fights to reign in his frustration. 

"Yeah," he says, in as calm a voice as he can manage, "Helped me feel closer to you," he says.

Liam blushes, shifting his weight from right foot to left. From the kitchen they hear Mack call for them. 

"Coming," Liam calls back, eyes still on Zayn, "I should," he says, voice quiet, "I should get dinner ready." 

"I can reheat the pancakes," Zayn answers, just as soft. After a moment, Liam hands him back the sketchbook. 

"Yeah," he says. Then - "Zayn?" 

Zayn freezes where he'd started to retreat back into his studio. 

"Yeah?" 

"They're beautiful." 

_You're_ beautiful, Zayn wants to tell him. You're beautiful and I love you so much and there isn't anything in the whole world I wouldn't do for you. And sometimes that feels so _big_ , pushing at my organs and wrapping around my skin and settling into my bones, and. Sometimes it feels like _nothing_. Like dying for you could be the easier thing I ever did. 

"Thanks," he finally says. By that time Liam's halfway down the hall. 

 

After another strained dinner, Mack turns to Zayn with bright eyes. 

"Can we play tonight?" she asks him, "I finished my homework in Ballet, remember? While waiting for my turn to learn the Sugar Plum Fairy's part? Please?"

It hasn't gotten any easier to say no to her. 

Zayn turns to Liam. 

"Would that be alright?" he asks. Liam shrugs nondescriptly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. 

"Suppose so," he says. Immediately Mack is out of her chair. 

"I'll get Perrie and Nellie," she says excitedly. Niall had bought her a new guitar last year before they'd moved, when it had become clear that she'd outgrown the one Zayn had gotten for her. She'd decided to name her Nellie, after Niall, and insisted that Zayn paint a small design into her. Nothing too girly, she'd informed him, just a design or something. Zayn had obliged, of course. 

"Put your dishes away and wash up first, Mack," Liam calls after. She pouts for a moment before suddenly her smile turns angelic. 

She returns to pick up her dishes and then blinks up at Liam. 

"Are you going to sing with us?" she asks him innocently, leaning in and fisting her hand in his shirt, "Please?" 

"I - " he glances at Zayn before continuing, "I have some grading to do, sweetheart," he tells her softly, "But I'll sit in and listen, how's that?" 

"Ok," she says, smile faltering only a little. She skips off to get the guitars, humming under her breath. Liam stares after her for a long moment and Zayn stares at Liam, the desire to wrap his arms around Liam from behind and press kisses into his neck almost overwhelming him. 

"She missed you something terrible," Liam says after a moment, getting up out of his chair like his body is too heavy. Zayn blinks. "I haven't seen her this happy since you left," his voice is quiet, raspy, laden with an emotion Zayn doesn't know. He's so fucking tired of not knowing. "She loves you so much you know," he continues, "I asked her once, how she explains," he gestures between them, "You know. To her friends. She said, he's my best friend and you love him. That's all." 

Zayn sinks back into his chair, brings his knees into his chest. 

"Oh," he says. A cold wave of fear has washed over him as he considers the possibility that _that's_ why Liam hasn't kicked him out yet: because he doesn't want to uproot Mack's life yet again. "Liam - " he starts, but his courage fails him, and he bites his lip, looks away. 

Mack walks in, carrying two guitars very carefully. 

"C'mon slowpokes," she calls out, leaving them behind for the family room. Zayn follows her out with looking at Liam. 

 

They settle in the room like they used to: Zayn and Mack on the floor and Liam curled up on the couch with his papers, hair falling over his eyes as he works. 

Mack and Zayn talk quietly, Mack choosing the songs and Zayn helping her through the chords, occasionally correcting her fingers or humming along the melody for her. She has a good ear and she's a focused student, she always has been, and the time passes quickly. Before they know it, Liam's clearing his throat, looking pointedly at Mack. 

"Oh alright," she huffs, knowing better than to ask for fifteen more minutes, "How'd I do, Daddy?" she looks up at him with round eyes. 

His smile for her takes up his whole face, relaxing his features in a way Zayn hasn't seen since he got here. 

"C'mere," he mumbles, reaching for her. She steps obediently into his embrace, giggling when he snuggles against her. "You play beautifully," he says, "I'm the luckiest Daddy in the world." 

When she pulls back she looks drowsy, a dopey smile turning her soft against her father. 

"Goodnight Daddy," she says, kissing him on the cheek. "Goodnight Zayn." 

 

When she's gone they sit in silence for a bit. Liam goes back to his work, head bent, the grip on his pen the only indication that he's aware of Zayn's presence in the room. 

Zayn doesn't know what to do so he settles back, playing a few chords of the tune he's been working on, strumming worn fingers against the familiar strings of his guitar, pretending for a moment, that he can lose himself in his music tonight. 

After a moment, Liam coughs, looks up at him. 

"Do you mind - " he asks softly. Zayn stares at him. The request is a foreign one. He's never asked Zayn to stop playing. Ever. 

"What - " Zayn stammers out, face going a beet red. 

"It's just," and at least he has the decency to look apologetic, "I'm trying to get these graded so I can upload their scores for them before the holidays and then I have to pack and - " 

"Right," Zayn says shortly, getting clumsily to his feet, "I'll get out of your hair - " 

"Zayn - "

"What?" Zayn snaps. He's embarrassed and the tension between them is fucking _eating_ at him and he was so exhausted, he had just wanted to come _home_ and now he's not sure he's got a home anymore and the thought makes bile rise up in his throat. 

"Don't you need to pack or something?" Liam mutters, rubbing at the crick in his neck. 

"Pack?" Zayn throws back, "I lived out of a fucking suitcase, Li. For two months. I haven't _unpacked_. So no. I _don't_ need to fucking pack. What I _need_ is - " 

He stops short, takes a deep breath. He wants to kick and scream and throw a fucking tantrum and tell Liam he needs to kiss him and hold him and fuck him but he holds back. He's not sure he has the right to demand that from Liam. 

He's the one who promised to take Liam everywhere with him, to never go anywhere without him - and then he left him behind. Left him alone in a cold city full of strangers. 

"I'm going to bed," he says, shoulders sagging, "Goodnight." 

He doesn't glance back. 

 

He doesn't move his stuff into the guest room. He's too weak to fuck up any chance he might have to spend the night in Liam's arms and he's too desperate not to hope that Liam won't want to go to bed angry, that he'll follow Zayn in, ask that they talk things through. 

So he curls up on his side of the bed, waiting. 

He falls asleep cold and alone. He's not sure Liam ever comes to bed. 

 

They board a plane obscenely early in the morning, sleep clinging to their movements and the press of their eyelids. Mack sleeps in the limo on the way to the airport and Zayn closes his eyes too, keeps his breathing slow. He doesn't want to look at Liam, doesn't want to talk about what happened last night. Tiredness muffles his thoughts, relaxes his urgency until he can pretend that the three of them are a proper family again, that Liam is _his_. At least for now he can feel the heat of Liam's thigh where it fidgets against him, hear his low breathing as he hums quietly for Mack, keeps her curled into him. 

The city passes beyond their tinted window, not _quiet_ exactly, in the early hours of dawn, but hushed in a way Zayn can appreciate, the low lights of signs and windows illuminating a grey sky, drawing color from the clouds and the first rays of sun. The threadbare trees that line the streets are strung with lights and Zayn realizes with a dull surprise that it's two days until Christmas. 

It's not that he'd forgotten exactly. He'd gotten gifts for Liam and Mack as he travelled. He had a bracelet made for Mack, decorated with delicate charms he'd drawn out, each one a promise of a different place he'd visited that he wanted to bring her back to. And for Liam - 

He swallows hard, pain suddenly welling up sharp under his rib cage. 

For Liam he'd designed a ring, thin and silver with intricate patterns carved into it, the same patterns that he'd carved into his own guitar. On the inside he'd had _fate_ engraved into it and the date they'd met years ago. He hadn't meant it to be an engagement ring, exactly. They'd talked about getting married when Harry and Louis had tied the knot a few years ago, but it's more complicated with Mack in the picture and Liam had hesitated, pressed a sweet kiss to Zayn's chin with a whispered, _this feels so new, yeah? let's wait awhile_. 

Zayn doesn't want to push him. Lou and him had talked through the idea for ages until Zayn was confident Liam wouldn't feel pressured into anything. He'd just wanted to make a commitment to Liam, wanted to make sure Liam knew that even as he travelled and learned and saw new things he'd always come home to Liam. 

At the time it had been an easy feeling, steady, simple, like the beat of Zayn's own heart, but now - now, suddenly his duffel feels heavy where it sits at his feet, pounds of emotion and promise and _forever_ in the form of a small black box at the bottom of it. 

He opens his eyes to find that Liam's staring back at him, corners of his mouth pulled down. 

"Are you alright?" he asks softly, voice warm with concern, "You've gone pale - " 

"I'm fine," Zayn says, turning away and pressing his forehead to the cool glass, "I'm fine." 

He sees a group of carolers huddled on the street, catches the tail end of a chord as they hurry past, and it's enough to send him back one year, the memory returning to him with painful clarity. A warm hearth fire, the snap and crackle of it a low backdrop to a blend of voices and guitars, languid in their chords, new twists to old carols. Zayn had been sitting across the room from Liam, close to Harry so that they could build upon each others' voices, but he could feel Liam's eyes on him, smirk set deep in the crook of his smile and in the way his fingers pressed rhythms into his own thighs. 

"Anyone want more wine?" Zayn had asked, feeling suddenly hot. But Liam had offered him no release, following him out of the family room and pressing him against the threshold of the kitchen out of sight. 

"Mistletoe," he'd murmured, and then he'd kissed Zayn, slow and deep and teasing. 

" _Li_ ," Zayn had whined into the kiss, eyes glazing over. Liam had hummed, lazy arousal traveling from his fingertips into Zayn's skin over his jeans. Zayn wanted to shrug out of his itchy sweater, arch into Liam, but he'd dug his fingernails into his palms instead, trying to maintain some semblance of control. 

"Do you have any idea how impossible it is to watch you sing? Fuck, no wonder you've got half the country in love with you," Liam had told him, reverent and a little possessive. 

"Silly," Zayn had reassured him, urging him closer to align their hips, "Yours." 

" _Mine_ ," Liam had agreed. He slowed Zayn's arousal to a low burn with kisses turned gentle even though when he pulled away his lips swollen and pupils blown out, "Sorry," he'd apologized breathlessly, nuzzling their noses together sweetly, "I shouldn't have - I just. You're so fucking beautiful sometimes I can't stand not to be kissing you - " 

 

" _Zayn_ ," A rough voice pulls him from the memory and Zayn blinks to find the limo's been stopped and Paul's standing in the doorway, waiting for him. 

"Sorry," he says hoarsely. 

"Are you alright?" Paul asks urgently, "Zayn you look like you're going to be sick - " 

"I'm fine - " he whispers, but Liam's moving over him to leave the car, waving a hand at his words. 

"Leave it to me, Paul," he says, business-like. When Paul moves out of the way to let him out Zayn hears a loud cheer. Liam straightens and waves while Paul helps Mack out of the car after him. The noise has pushed sleep out of her and her eyes are wide with the chaos, expression blank, but she tucks a hand into Liam's and waves too, a small smile appearing when the cheers grow. 

And then Liam turns back, ducks down and offers Zayn a hand and a reassuring smile and Zayn takes it instinctively, lets Liam help him out of the car. It must look awfully romantic because the crowd goes insane, girls' screams echoing when Liam wraps a steadying arm around him, draws in some of his weight. 

"You're alright," he says softly, "I'm here, and you're alright. Just smile and wave, yeah? They're here to see you." 

Zayn does what he's told but there's only one thought he can focus on, that presses in on him so even Liam's hands feel cold around Zayn's shoulders. 

They haven't kissed in the three days since Zayn's been back. Not once. 

 

Liam puts on a good show, talking cheerfully to the airport detail as they check in and go through security. He makes jokes with the personnel and keeps up a running commentary for Mack and all the while his hand stays where it is on Zayn's shoulder, possessive and insincere. 

As soon as they make it into the frequent flyer lounge, emptied so that it's exclusively for their use, Paul rounds on Zayn.

"Can I get you something, sir?" he asks, peering at him nervously, like he might collapse at any moment, "I've never seen you like this - Aspirin? Tylenol? A bottle of whiskey?" 

Zayn snorts, faint. 

"I'm _fine_ Paul. S'just," he looks away, "Must be exhaustion from the tour catching up to me. I'm alright." 

"You are, right?" Mack asks, voice borderline anxious. She's been quiet up until now, eyes darting between Zayn and Liam warily. Zayn wonders how much she's caught on to the act, "You _do_ look sick - " 

Zayn leans down and kisses her. Liam's hand tightens around his neck. 

"I'm fine baby girl, really." 

"Paul, why don't you take Mack to the duty free shop and grab her something for the plane ride?" Liam says softly, "Chocolate or a magazine or something?" 

Mack brightens. 

"Maybe we'll find one with your face on it, Zayn," she says, giggling and tugging at Paul. 

After they're gone, Liam draws Zayn to one of the couches. 

"Why don't you sit for a bit? Close your eyes?" he murmurs, looking at Zayn worriedly. Zayn jerks out of his grip. 

"Don't," he bites out, moving away. He's tired of the pretense. Tired of Liam's hot and cold routine. _Tired_. "Listen, you can stop this, ok? We've got the perfect excuse, now. We can tell everyone I wasn't up for flying and cancel my ticket and you and Mack can fly home to the family without me. We can stop this fucking charade and you can stop looking like you're up for some particularly awful kind of torture," he finishes darkly, staring hard at Liam. 

Liam's eyes widen in shock and Zayn watches with a sick sense of satisfaction as his face drains of all color. 

"Zayn, you've got it wrong," he stammers out. 

"Convincing," Zayn drawls cruelly. He reaches for his duffel and Liam's head snaps up. There's a panic in his eyes that Zayn has never seen before. 

"Zayn, please," Liam whispers, reaching for him. Zayn shrugs him off, turns away. "I - Mack will be so upset." 

"I don't care," Zayn snaps and then he closes his eyes, digs the heels of his palms against them exhaustedly, "Fuck, I didn't mean that I just -. You don't have to - You don't have to do this for her, Li. Not if I'm making you this miserable," he says hollowly. 

Liam's eyes fill with tears and Zayn swallows against the lump in his throat. This is happening. This is really happening. 

"She knows how much I love her," he says as gently as he can, "She knows how much you love her. And she's old enough now to understand that not all relationships work out. You don't have to keep pretending for her Li - " 

"I'm not," Liam chokes out. Tears track down his face, unnoticed, "Zayn, I'm not, I swear. I'm - _please_. We can't do this now. We can't. I _can't_ ," He makes an aborted gesture to reach for Zayn, stops when he realizes what he's doing, "Just. Just give me a few more days. One more Christmas. And then if you still want to leave - fuck - " 

He breaks off and he's trembling and Zayn pulls him roughly into his arms, fists a hand in his hair and holds him through it. 

"Please don't go," Liam whispers fiercely into his neck, voice wet with tears, "I only just got you back, I can't lose you again so soon." 

"I'm sorry," Zayn tells him, blinking back his own tears, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - I'll stay, of course I will I just - " he says hoarsely, "Liam, I've hurt you. I don't know what I've done but it's obvious you're upset with me and if you don't tell me what I did I won't be able to fix it - " 

Liam pulls away slightly to look at him, an expression in his eyes that has become familiar to Zayn only because it is so frustratingly unfamiliar. 

"You haven't. You haven't done anything," he says, but he's already stiffening in Zayn's embrace. 

"Liam - " Zayn pleads, wrapping hands around Liam's wrists and pulling him close, "Liam just talk to me - " 

"Mack's coming back," Liam interrupts quietly. He moves away, swipes at his eyes. "M'just gonna use the bathroom," he says stiffly. "Tell her where I'm going, yeah?" 

And then he's gone and Mack is approaching before he can compose himself, curls bouncing as she skips to him, a bemused Paul following in her path. 

"Where's Dad going - Oh. Zayn, you have to take a seat, Zayn, you don't look good at all - " Mack says concernedly, tugging Zayn to the couch. Paul helps him sit through his flood of panic, pulse pounding in his ears, hands going clammy. 

"I'm fine Mack," he says, but his voice sounds hollow to his own ears and she wrinkles her nose at him. 

" _Rest_ ," she tells him firmly, "We'll be home before you know it and then Grandma will know what to do." She presses into him, fists a hand in his shirt and looks up at him, worrying her bottom lip until Zayn presses a kiss to her forehead, smoothes out the wrinkles there with a stroke of his thumb. She seems to relax with the gesture, face melting into a cheeky smile. 

"There _were_ magazines with your face on them," she says teasingly, " _And_ I overheard two girls talking about how wonderful you are. I wanted to tell them you snore and have bad morning breath but I resisted." 

"I do _not_ snore," Zayn says, feigning offense and pinching her side. She squirms a little. 

"You talk in your sleep though," she giggles, pinching him back, "I've heard you when you fall asleep on the couch and Dad has to carry you to bed." 

"God," Zayn groans, "Don't ever tell anyone that," he waggles a finger at her, "Or I'll tell everyone you like to read on the toilet." 

Mack's eyes widen.

"It's efficient," Mack's defends, blushing, and Zayn tightens his hold on her apologetically. 

"I love you," he says softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

"Me too," Mack replies, and then - "Daddy loves you too, you know. A lot." 

"Mack - " Zayn says quietly, but she shakes her head, stubborn. 

"He _does_ , I know he does. He played your music all the time when you were gone and slept on the couch most nights and wore your clothes basically every day. And once, after you stopped calling every night, I caught him crying in the kitchen when I went down to get some water. He was wearing your leather jacket." 

She traces the watch that fits loose on Zayn's hand: Liam's father's watch. He'd given it to Zayn when he'd caught Zayn going through his drawers for clothes to steal.

"You can't take all my clothes with you on tour, I'll have nothing to wear myself," Liam had chided him with a fond shake of his head. 

"Don't want to go," Zayn had mumbled, leaning into him. "Not without you. I promised - " 

"Here," Liam had interrupted gently. He'd undone his watch and clasped it onto Zayn's wrist and then tugged him in to steal a kiss. "There you go. Now I'll always be _watching_ you. Get it?" he'd joked, laughing when Zayn had glared at him half heartedly, "Don't _worry_. Just go build homes for people with your music, sweetheart. I'll be here when you get back, you'll see." 

 

Zayn draws in a shaky breath, looks down at Mack who's watching him carefully, eyebrows knitted together in a frown. 

"He loves you," she says again, voice firm. Zayn sighs, cups her hand over the watch. 

"You did great for the fans today," he tells her, "Thank you." 

She shrugs. 

"We're your family. It's our job to make you look good," she grins a little at him.

"Is that so? Well then. I must be very lucky," he says, smiling despite himself. _Family_ sounds good coming from her, like a warm hand over his heart. 

"Yup," she nods matter-of-factly, sticking her tongue out at him, "You really are." 

 

"Who is this tall gangly thing and what have you done with my Mackenzie," Niall demands when he opens the front door for them. The sun is setting behind the house, casting Niall's face in shadows as he grins at them, plaid sleeves rolled up to his forearms and skin a pale white to match the cold. He hasn't aged a day since Zayn met him, smile wide and warm for them as he embraces them one after another. 

He kisses Liam on the cheek and wraps an arm around Zayn's neck. 

"Glad they gave you holidays for Christmas, Zee. When's the last time you made it down here? July? I'd say it's been too long since I last saw you but Karen keeps a cut out of you in the living room so - " 

"Shut up," Zayn mumbles, pressing his nose into Niall's ear and breathing in.

"Where're Lou and all?" Liam asks him. There's a smile on his face despite it all, the gut reaction to coming _home_ and Zayn feels the odd sensation of two opposite emotions tangling: guilt at taking Liam away from all of this and relief that he hasn't broken Liam entirely. 

It must show on his face because Niall gives him an odd look before turning to Liam. 

"At the shop for the last minute Christmas sale," he says, "Should be home any minute actually. Your mum's gone out for some secret shopping or something, she didn't tell me. And Haz is in the kitchen. He's making your favorite, Mack, pecan pie." 

"That's why _he's_ my favorite," she says, beaming smugly when Niall squawks at her. She leads the way into the kitchen, tugging on Niall's hand to pull him faster, "Uncle Haz, we're _home_ ," she shouts. They find Harry at the stove with his apron on and his hair pulled out of his face and he looks tired but he grins like mad at them, wiping his hands before approaching them for hugs and kisses. 

"God Mack, you've grown _again_ what is your Daddy feeding you," Harry asks her. He's already spooning out a bite of pie filler for her, and she opens wide for it, closing her eyes to savor the taste. 

"Nothing like your cooking," she says, throwing Liam a teasing look, "If I lived here still I'd be as tall as you!" 

"Hey," Liam whines. He hangs back in the threshold, leaning up against it with his hands in his pockets. It's like his muscles have unknotted and he's expanded again to fit comfortably in this space; suddenly he's five years younger, boyish like when Zayn first met him, warm and inviting and _happy_ and when Niall and Harry are distracted by something Mack is saying, Zayn reaches, taps out a shy beat into his hip. 

"It's good to be back," he breathes out and Liam smiles almost coyly at him. 

"Yeah," Liam agrees and Zayn leans into him, drawn to him like he has been since they first met, the desire to get _closer_ curling under his ribs. 

Caught in their own orbit they don't hear the front door open and they don't notice Louis until he's on top of them, voice raspy and warm and _delighted_. 

"Look at our two lovebirds, getting cosy under the mistletoe," he sings, "Give us a kiss then, go on - " 

"Lou - " Liam protests and Mack giggles, hand over mouth. 

"Go on Daddy," she says, looking equal parts horrified and amused. 

Zayn's entire being stutters as he watches Liam contract away and into himself once more.

"Here," he mutters. He leans in and presses a clinical, passionless kiss to Liam's lips, stealing himself against the spark of _desire_ that he's not allowed to feel anymore. 

"Gross," Mack says but it's half hearted and she's giving Louis a _look_ behind them and Zayn turns away from it. 

"Come here, you three," Louis says softly, pulling Liam and Zayn into a hug and laughing when Mack bowls into them, unsteadying the tangle of limbs, "Missed you guys so much." 

"How's the shop?" Zayn asks when he pulls away, not quite meeting his eyes. Liam has fallen silent and he too stares fixedly at his hands. 

"It's _great_ ," Louis says, fisting a hand in Zayn's shirt and smiling at him with intent. Zayn lets out a breath of relief, smiles back at him. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. People seem really into buying anything with your face on it," he informs Zayn teasingly. Zayn blushes. He'd given Louis the sole rights to his merchandise for miles in the hopes that his business would pick up. 

"Glad I could help," he mumbles. 

"Thank you," Louis says sincerely and then he glances at Liam. 

"Alright there?" he asks him, "Gonna give your best mate a kiss?" 

Liam looks up at Louis, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

"Shut up," he mumbles, "Yeah. M'fine." 

"Right," Louis says, raising an eyebrow at him. He opens his mouth but he's interrupted by Harry piling into the threshold with them and placing a hand on Zayn's and Liam's shoulders.

"Why don't you lot," he glances at Louis and Liam, "Finish decorating the Christmas tree so it'll be done by the time Karen gets home?" 

"Oh, I'll help," Mack adds, delighted. 

"Me too," Niall puts in, tugging on one of Mack's curls, "We saved the star for you," he tells her, "C'mon." 

Zayn turns to follow them but Harry holds him back. 

"Could use some help in the kitchen," he says quietly, "And I'm working on this paper for an art history class - " 

Zayn sighs. 

"It's Christmas holidays," Zayn tells Harry skeptically, "You haven't got any papers." but he hangs back, follows Harry to the countertop, "What do you want me to do?" 

"Tell me what's going on. _Zayn_ \- " Harry tugs on his chin when Zayn tries to look away. "C'mon, Zee." 

"Everything's fine - " Zayn protests feebly but Harry clucks his tongue. 

"We're the in-laws to this family," he tells Zayn firmly, "If we don't have each other who else have we got?" there's a twinkle in his eye as he says it, draws Zayn in, "C'mon Zayn," he wheedles, "Talk to me." 

"Christ," Zayn mutters, "Fine. I don't know, alright? It's been like this since I got back. We hadn't been talking properly while I was tour - " 

"Thought you talked every night," Harry interrupts, brow furrowed. Zayn stares. 

"Yeah," he says slowly, "At first. But then Liam said he didn't - didn't want me calling every night so I - I stopped. And then I got home and he's been. I don't know. I offered to stay back, let Mack and him come here without me but - he didn't want that either." 

"Of course he didn't," Harry scolds indignantly, "He missed you every damn day that you were gone. He was miserable without you." 

"He's miserable _with_ me," Zayn tells Harry desperately, "Haz I - fuck. What if I'm not being fair to him and he's tired of it? I mean, I stole him away from you guys, moved him halfway across the country and for what? To abandon him for half the year? He deserves more than that, Harry, you know he does." 

"He knew what he was signing up for," Harry says quietly, taking his hand and gripping it tightly, "He knew what he was getting into when he moved with you." 

But Zayn is already shaking his head. 

"He didn't even want me. He _knew_ it'd be hard and he tried to tell me no but I pushed and pushed until he relented because I'm fucking _selfish_ and - " Zayn's voice breaks and he lets Harry pull him into an embrace. "What if I can't make him happy anymore, Haz?" he whispers despondently. "I don't think I can let him go. I'm _still_ so selfish - " 

"Enough of this," Harry interrupts him, his own voice choked, " _Enough_ , Zayn. He _loves_ you. You're his everything." 

"He can't even look at me, anymore." 

"There's another explanation." 

"Harry." 

"Zayn - " 

"What is it then?" Zayn snaps out, patience ebbing. Just because Harry and Louis got their fairytale doesn't mean Liam and Zayn have been written into the same story, too. 

"I don't know," Harry says stubbornly, "But there _is_. He called Niall a lot, Zee. And every time it was, 'I miss him all the time', and 'I'm so proud of him' and 'I love him so much', and you _saw_ Louis' reaction. He was as surprised as I am. If Liam was planning to leave you, don't you think he would have mentioned it?" 

"What if he's staying with me for Mack?" Zayn asks quietly. 

Harry gapes at him. 

"You don't actually believe that do you?" Harry asks sadly, eyes searching his. Zayn shrugs stubbornly, stares back until Harry relents, presses a kiss to Zayn's forehead.

"C'mon," he says, "I've got pie crusts for you to fill." 

When there are three pies in the oven, Harry takes Zayn's hand and leads him into the living room. It's decorated with the warm glow of the fireplace and colored lights that dance off the Christmas tree, smells like fresh pine needles and cold logs and Niall and Louis and Liam and Mack have sprawled out, breathless with the edge of sweet laughter. 

"Look who it is," drawls Louis, "Our very own popstar." 

Mack giggles, giddy with the familiarity of her surroundings. Niall grins, innocent and charming. 

"We saved you a seat," he says, "Right next to your very handsome boyfriend." 

Harry squeezes Zayn's hand gently before letting go. 

"Go on then," he says softly. Zayn swallows and looks at Liam, who glances around before looking up at him, eyes wide. Zayn sees a flicker of hesitation and then Liam is reaching for him, with a big hand and a small smile. 

Zayn takes it, lets Liam steady him as he steps over the bodies on the floor to reach him, and then lets Liam pull him down to sit next to him, wrap a solid arm around him. 

Zayn fits into his side like he's putting on an old sweater and Liam huffs a small laugh, tilts into him. 

"I'm sorry about before," he says under his breath. And his lips brush the shell of Zayn's ear and Zayn shudders. He's not sure exactly what Liam's apologizing for but he doesn't care: the scent of Liam, the _strength_ of Liam is heady, intoxicating, and Zayn feels himself melt into it instinctively. 

"It's okay," he responds, because the way Liam's tangled their feet together makes it okay, makes it perfect even. 

And this time, when Liam relaxes, it's because Zayn has taken his hand and interlaced their fingers. 

When they look up again the conversation has moved on around them but Harry is watching Zayn, looking as confused as Zayn feels. Zayn gives him an imperceptible shrug and a soft smile. He'll chalk it up to a Christmas miracle, he thinks, settling further into Liam's side. For now, it's enough.

 

The next thing he knows is Liam's lips pressed in a soft kiss to his forehead. 

"Zayn," he says softly, "Wake up." 

Zayn, still drugged up on exhaustion, tucks into him further, shakes his head stubbornly. 

He feels Liam start to tremble underneath him and that knocks the sleep out of him though. He looks up worriedly only to find that Liam is laughing at him, hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles, eyes scrunched up around the corners. 

"Sorry, sorry," Liam huffs out when Zayn pouts at him, grumbling about exhaustion and inconsiderate boyfriends and moving up out of his embrace, "You're just - "   
He stops, bites his lip, "Sorry," he says finally. 

Zayn turns to find that they're alone in the cozy room, their only company the dying embers on the hearth and the stuffed Santa Claus underneath the tree. 

"Where is everyone?" he mumbles, clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes. 

"Eating dinner," Liam says quietly. He's looking at Zayn _nervously_ , hands drawing restless patterns into the carpet. As if on cue, a burst of laughter comes from the kitchen, followed by Harry's indignant _Hey_. 

"Why didn't you wake me?" Zayn asks him. 

Liam shrugs. 

"You need your rest," he says, and then he glances away, "And I'm greedy." 

" _Liam_ \- " Zayn swallows. Something's come between them again, like a wall Liam's put up, a line he doesn't want Zayn to cross anymore, "Liam, tell me what's wrong. Please? I'll. I would do anything, Li. I would do anything for you." 

Something flickers in Liam's eyes and then they dim and again Liam retreats. 

"I can't," he says. 

Frustration blazes hot in Zayn. He gets up abruptly. 

"We can't keep going on like this." From this angle, Liam looks impossibly young, knees drawn into his chest, eyes lowered. 

"You've made that clear, Zayn," Liam says dully. His shoulders hunch in defeatedly, like he's already given up on them and it makes Zayn _angry_. 

"Don't you dare turn me into the bad guy," Zayn says, voice rising steadily as days of exhaustion and hurt and _panic_ boil his blood "At least I'm _trying_. At least I'm fighting for us. If you could just tell me what was wrong maybe we'd stand a chance. But no, you'd rather keep quiet and stay miserable right? If you want this so bad, Li, why don't you stand up and fight for it?" 

In a split second, Liam is on his feet. 

"Stop going on tour," he says quietly. His voice is even and cold and betrays no emotion, "Stop performing." 

"Wh - what?" Zayn stutters out. Liam's eyes darken and suddenly he sounds _wrecked_ with self-loathing. 

"You asked me what was wrong," he says, and each word sounds like a fight, like speaking them is causing him physical pain, "You asked me to - " he flinches, takes a step closer, "I missed you every fucking minute of every fucking day. These last few months have been _torture_. There wasn't a single night I didn't want to beg you to come home and there wasn't a single moment I didn't hate myself for it. Because I am selfish enough to ask you to give up your dreams and your music and your fucking _popstar career_ just so I can wake up next to you every morning. So no, Zayn, you're not the bad guy, okay? I am," his voice breaks and he draws a shaky breath, "I am," he says hollowly, "I'm the bad guy, Zayn." 

For a moment, all Zayn can do is stare at Liam, dumbstruck. 

"Is that - " he swallows, cups Liam's face gently with one hand, "Is that really what you want?" 

Liam recoils from him, eyes blazing. 

"No. No," he backs away, "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking _dare_ \- " 

"But I - " 

" _No_ ," Liam snarls, "See, this is why I couldn't tell you," he throws his hands up, "Because a _normal_ person would tell me to fuck right off, but you? You insane, unbelievable, _infuriating_ person would actually give up everything for me. And then I couldn't live with myself," he mops a hand over his face dejectedly, "Don't you see Zayn?" he says, voice heavy with anguish, "I couldn't live with myself if you stayed, and you couldn't live with yourself now if you left," his lower lip trembles, "Zayn, we're stuck."

"What are you saying?" Zayn asks, voice going high as the fear sinks in, sharp and paralyzing, "Liam, what are we going to do?" 

Liam doesn't look at him. 

"I don't know, Zayn," he mumbles, "I don't know that I have much of a choice." 

"No," Zayn chokes out, and he's begging now and he doesn't care, "No, Li, _please_. I couldn't - I _can't_ \- " 

" _What's going on here?_ " 

They both start, whirl around to find Mack there. She's pale and she clutches tight to Louis' hand but she stares bravely up at them, one hand on her hip. Harry and Niall are there too, Niall with a reassuring arm around Karen who stares, horrified, at the pair of them. 

Liam's face drains of any color. 

"Mack - " 

"It's fine," Zayn says softly, coming behind Liam and taking his hand, "Mack, it's fine. We were just - We have some things to talk about, okay? But we're fine." 

Liam grips his hand, white-knuckled, and Zayn swallows. 

"I love your Daddy very much," he continues, fighting to keep his voice steady, "You know I do, yeah? Don't worry, okay? It's Christmas. No one's allowed to worry." 

"But," she sniffs, "You were yelling. I've never heard you yell before." 

"I know we were Mackaroo," Zayn tells her, "I'm sorry we frightened you. I got angry and I threw a tantrum and I'm sorry for it. But it doesn't mean I love your Dad any less, okay? I promise." 

After a long moment, Mack nods. 

"C'mere," Liam mumbles, voice raspy. She runs to him, tucking herself into his embrace and pulling Zayn's arms around her from behind. Zayn kneels down, kisses her on the cheek. 

"I'm gonna head to bed, alright Mack baby? I've been cranky all day because we had to wake up early so I just need a good night's rest and everything will be alright, okay? Is that okay?" 

She nods again. 

"Goodnight," she whispers. 

"Goodnight, I love you," Zayn tells her, tucking her hair behind her ear and cupping her chin. "I love you so much." 

"I love you," she sniffs again, offering him a watery smile. He smiles back at her as reassuringly as possible. 

When he straightens, Liam is watching him, and Zayn doesn't try to decipher the expression on his face, just leans in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth for Mack's sake.

"Goodnight," he says, turning before he has to see Liam's reaction. "Goodnight everyone." He presses a kiss to Karen's cheek. "I'm so sorry, Karen," he whispers to her. 

She pulls him in for a tight hug, small hand a warm pressure against the back of his neck. 

"None of that," she says fiercely, "You two will be alright." 

He gives her a complacent nod, and turns away from her too, retreats to Liam's room without a glance back. He knows it's what Liam wants, knows that they should spend the night together if only to reassure Mack for a little while. But it doesn't make it easier to flip the light on and find that Karen's left everything exactly the same: one of Zayn's guitars on a stand by the closet and old ticket stubs on their dresser and pictures hung up of the three of them at an amusement park and Mack's fifth grade graduation and Liam's birthday. 

He finds one of Liam's old shirts and changes into it, taking his time to fold his clothes and take out his earrings. He knows Liam won't be back for a long time, will put Mack to bed and then retreat into Louis and Harry and Niall until he's feeling brave enough to face Zayn again. He pours his entire focus into each menial task, so that he has no room to think about anything but the routine of getting ready for bed. 

Otherwise, he's not sure he won't collapse into a heap on the floor. 

 

He's right. Liam doesn't show up for ages, but Zayn is still awake when he does. He's turned on his side with his back facing the door but he knows it's Liam, can feel the tension in the room fizzle as he enters. He keeps his eyes closed and his breathing steady as Liam moves around the dark room, hardly making a single sound as he gets ready for bed. 

Finally the bed dips and Liam's weight settles and Zayn can almost hear the hesitancy in his movements and he waits with bated breath to see if Liam will say anything, but then Liam fits himself to Zayn and presses his lips to Zayn's neck instead and Zayn is so surprised he can't stop the way his body trembles as hot desire courses through him. 

Behind him, Liam draws a shallow breath. 

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I didn't mean to wake you - " but his hand is slipping under Zayn's tee, playing chords along the grooves of Zayn's ribs. Zayn bites back a whimper and arches into the touch, trying futilely to hold onto his self control as Liam touches him, familiar hands, familiar chords. 

When he can't take it any longer he twists in Liam's arms and suddenly Liam's face is inches from his and even in the dim light he can see how _unsure_ he is and Zayn doesn't want to know what that means so he kisses Liam instead, rough and filthy and relentless, until Liam is shuddering, rolling their hips together. And when Liam is pressing small, _desperate_ whimpers into the heat of Zayn's mouth, Zayn breaks the kiss. 

"Fuck me, Li, c'mon," he demands, and when Liam hesitates, Zayn pulls away and shucks his shirt and shimmies out of his boxers and it's probably unfair tactics he's using but as the hesitancy in Liam's eyes is replaced with heavy-lidded arousal, Zayn finds he doesn't care. "Want you," he begs, "Please, Li, need you." 

Liam's on top of Zayn in an instant. He runs heavy hands down Zayn's torso, thumbs catching Zayn's sensitive nipples and forcing a groan from him. He feels overheated and overstimulated already and like Liam can read Zayn's mind he slows them down, presses light open-mouthed kisses to Zayn's neck. 

"Open your eyes," he says gently. Zayn shakes his head, biting his lip. He's not sure he can look at Liam right now. Not when he doesn't know where they stand anymore, not when he doesn't know if this is the last time they'll ever do this. What if Liam wants to stop? 

Liam licks at his bottom lip, soothing the sting. He kisses the tops of Zayn's eyelids and the curve of his cheekbones and then the corner of his mouth. He spends time drawing bruises on his collarbones and then a wet hot trail down the line of Zayn's torso. When he presses a kiss to the tip of Zayn's cock, Zayn arches helplessly, a sob getting stuck in his throat. 

He feels Liam reach over to where they used to keep the lube, and then Liam's slicking up two fingers with his mouth on Zayn's hip like he knows Zayn needs the anchor. 

Zayn's muscles quiver and his jaw aches from where he's clenched it to keep from crying and he can't make himself relax, too strung out and anxious and desperate to _keep_ Liam and when Liam presses a finger into him, Zayn lets out a whimper of pain, tears springing to his eyes. 

"No, don't," he says, when he feels Liam attempting to pull out, "You can keep going, I'm fine." 

Liam's voice is small in the darkness. 

"Not gonna hurt you, Zayn. I would never - " he swallows hard and Zayn risks opening his eyes to see Liam's biting his lip, obviously upset. 

When he sees Zayn's opened his eyes, Liam leans down and kisses him, chaste and sweet.

"Can I try and help you relax, Zayn?" he asks quietly, nuzzling their noses together in a gesture that is painfully intimate, "Gonna take care of you," Liam writes into his skin, "Okay? Is that okay?" 

When Zayn nods, he reaches a hand down between them, circles Zayn's hole with a light finger, drawing a gasp from him. It's easier now that Zayn can see Liam, see the desire in his eyes and the soft curve of his smile. There's no uncertainty anymore, god knows there shouldn't be. Liam knows Zayn's body better than Zayn does, knows how to play his bones like a piano, pulling out melodies of arousal and desire and desperation. He moves down Zayn's body, pressing kisses to the jut of his hip and the curve of his abs and the sweat under his knees as he pushes them into Zayn's chest. 

"Like this, okay?" he says softly, "Want to see you." 

Zayn nods again, moaning when Liam kisses over his soft spot. 

"God, you're so gorgeous, so beautiful," he murmurs. He licks into Zayn's hole and Zayn bucks and gasps, bearing down against Liam's tongue without a shred of control. Liam obliges him, tongue fucking up into him until Zayn is writhing, _please. god,_ please _liam_ , falling from his lips. 

Liam reaches blindly for his hand, interlacing their fingers and holding on tight as he adds one slick finger to the mess of saliva and heat of his mouth. It goes in without much resistance this time and Liam continues to lick him open with slow broad strokes, almost cruel in the way they set Zayn's body on fire with need. 

"More, Li, please - fuck, I need - " Liam obeys, adding a second finger and crooking them up, groaning when Zayn lets out a low moan, thighs shaking as Liam hits that spot inside him. 

"I'm ready," he babbles, pressing up into Liam's fingers, desperate for his cock, "Liam please, I'm ready, c'mon - " 

"You sure," Liam asks softly, fingers slowing to a torturous drag. His eyes are hooded and dark in the low light of the moon and his dick presses out desperately against his boxers and Zayn nods, frantic. 

Liam pulls his fingers out with an obscene noise and for one agonizing minute Zayn feels empty as Liam slicks himself up, but then he's lining up his cock and pressing in slow, letting out a whimper. Zayn watches as his mouth goes slack and his back bows, hand tightening desperately where their fingers are still interlaced above Zayn's head. 

He steeples their foreheads together, struggles to keep his eyes open and focused on Zayn as he moves in slow, deep strokes. Zayn presses back into him and they ignite their old rhythm quickly enough. Liam noses into him, bites along his jaw and then kisses him tenderly, gasping slightly when Zayn tightens around him involuntarily, his entire world narrowing to Liam's round dark eyes and their bodies pressed together. 

His cock strains untouched against his stomach, leaking and heavy and he wants to feel Liam's hand around him, wants some kind of friction, but he _needs_ this to last, so he forces himself to enjoy the slow build up, the way Liam starts to move faster and faster the closer he gets. He tilts his hips, changes the angle and suddenly Zayn is spasming around him, and there's a smirk on Liam's lips like an old bruise that Zayn wants to kiss away but he can't focus enough to manage it, his orgasm taking him by surprise, white heat flooding his veins, body going limp under Liam's. 

With a soft _Zayn_ Liam comes too, burrowing his face in Zayn's neck and pressing his hips tight into Zayn. Zayn runs a hand down his back to soothe the trembles, smiling a little when Liam presses a satisfied groan into Zayn's skin. He pulls out gently, kissing Zayn's forehead and nose and mouth as Zayn winces slightly. 

He gets up on wobbly legs and finds his old shirt that's fallen off the bed, uses it to clean up the mess Zayn's made on his stomach and where the come leaks from him and then he tosses it to the side and resettles beside Zayn in silence. 

He's just watching Zayn and Zayn lets him, enjoying the way his features have relaxed in the aftermath glow. He watches Liam watch him, lets Liam reach out and circle his wrist, thumb over the bone there. 

"Could I - " Liam's voice is hoarse and he doesn't continue but Zayn nods anyway, so Liam pulls him closer, turns so Zayn can rest his head on Liam's shoulder and interlaces their fingers together on his hip. "Is this alright?" he asks quietly and _how could he possibly not know?_

"I love you," Zayn says quietly instead, "I thought about you every second of every day I was away from you. You were every face in the crowd and every dream in my head and every song lyric I penned out. I love performing and I love making music but I couldn't do it without you, Li. You're my _home_." 

Liam turns his face into Zayn's hair. 

"Harry says - Harry says I've really hurt you," Liam says, and even muffled Zayn can hear the pain in his voice, "I'm sorry, Zayn. I'm so sorry. I wanted to be strong for you while you were away, and I wanted to prove to you that I could manage without you but it was so fucking hard to be apart from you and I - I didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to feel guilty about living your dream. So I kept you at arms' length and I didn't even realize you'd - I just. I never thought you could ever believe that I didn't love you." 

Zayn twists to look at him, eyes searching his. 

"Say it," he begs, fisting a hand in Liam's shirt. Liam's eyes widen. 

"I love you," he whispers fervently, "Zayn, I love you so much, ok? God, I'll say it a thousand times if you want - " 

Zayn cuts him off with a kiss, relief bringing tears to his eyes with it's intensity.

When Liam pulls away, he's looking at Zayn like he's never seen him before.

"You're crying," he says dazedly, thumbing away a tear like Zayn's bones are made of glass. 

Zayn huffs a laugh. 

"Shut up," he says weakly, turning his face into Liam's shoulder. 

"How can I make this better?" Liam whispers, cupping Zayn's cheek and pressing kisses to his damp eyelashes. 

_Be here in the morning_ , Zayn wants to say, _Never let me go_. 

"Hold me?" he asks softly, "When we were apart I'd lay in bed for hours wishing you were there to - " he closes his eyes, "I just want to be close to you again," he whispers. "Please?" 

Liam doesn't answer, just tucks Zayn into his side with strong hands, entangles their feet purposefully, leaves no part of Zayn's body untouched. 

"Like this?" Liam asks. Zayn breathes him in. 

"Yeah," he says softly. 

"Will you sing for me?" Liam asks him in a small voice. The request goes straight to Zayn's heartstrings. He wonders if this is the last time Liam will ask this of him, whether this is the last night they'll spend like this. He draws a shaky breath, tries to regain some control of lungs.

"I don't know you, but I want to, all the more for it," he starts but then he chokes on a sob, body trembling in Liam's embrace even as Liam tightens his arms around him. "Fuck, I - I'm sorry, Li. I don't think I - " 

"Shh," Liam says softly, running a soothing hand down his back, "I love you so much, sweetheart. Try and sleep okay? I'm right here." 

 

He wakes up alone. 

He wakes up alone and as soon he realizes it he _panics_ : fear presses against his chest and he can't fill up his lungs and he can't _see_. He sits up, takes shallow gasping breaths, focuses on a progression of chords until his heartbeat slows and his toes uncurl and he can breathe again. 

And then he gets out of bed and dresses, slow and purposeful. 

 

Only Karen is in the kitchen when he gets there, a familiar bluegrass tune on the radio as she stirs something to the stove, hums along. Zayn clears his throat and she turns around, offers him a warm smile. 

"Hi sweetie, can I get you some coffee?" 

"H - Hi," Zayn stammers, "No, I - " 

"Oh honey," she says quietly, standing on tiptoes to wrap arms around him, "It's going to be alright, I know it is. Mother's intuition, yeah?" she kisses him on the forehead. 

Zayn closes his eyes, thinks of his own mother's bony arms wrapped around him, thinks of the way she'd smile when he played for her, laughing out of her stomach when they stumbled together. It had been just the two of them for so many years and then he'd lost her and he'd been _alone_. 

He hadn't had a family anymore before he met Liam, and now - 

The thought of losing them all fucking terrifies him. 

"Karen I - " 

"Don't apologize," she says sternly, "You've done nothing wrong. You've loved my son and his daughter as your own, you've brought nothing but happiness to this family. And you've made space in your dreams for him, Zayn. That is all anyone could ever ask of you." 

"I can't lose him," Zayn says, "I don't know how to - I can't go back to being without him." 

"You won't," she waves a hand at him, "You won't. You've just got to talk to him." 

"Yeah," Zayn whispers. "Has he gone for - " 

"A ride, yeah," she finishes softly, "He'll be back okay? And in the meantime, can I offer you some advice?" 

When Zayn nods she smiles at him. 

"Work out a compromise, yeah? Don't stop playing. Liam's wrong about a lot of things but he's not wrong about that. He can't ask you to stop playing. You're too talented and you love it too much. No one can take that away from you." 

"A compromise?" Zayn echoes. 

"You know," Karen says amusedly, "When two people who love each other very much find some kind of common ground?" 

Zayn smiles a little despite himself, leans in to kiss her on the cheek. 

"Thanks Karen," he says softly.

"Go on," she urges him gently, "Go get him." 

 

He settles on the highest step of their doorstep, stretches out his legs and tilts his head up to take in the sun. It's only a little chilly in the early morning, but he feels comfortable in Liam's sweatshirt and pants, lets himself enjoy the quiet street and unlit Christmas decorations. So much happened on this doorstep, years ago. He remembers the first time he'd shown up here, watch in his pocket, guitar slung across his back. He runs a hand over the watch now, lost in thought. 

He had nearly talked himself out of it, nearly talked himself out of showing up unannounced on the doorstep of a stranger. A stranger he'd tried to kiss. 

But he'd barely been able to put down his guitar since that stranger had walked into his life, penning lyrics frantically into his notebook, all the while thinking of crinkly-eyed smiles and earnest words and big piano hands. That had meant something, he'd known even then, Liam had meant something. 

Everything, Zayn corrects himself. Liam and Mack and this family. This family that took him in without hesitation, an East Side boy with next to nothing, trusted his talent, _listened_ to his music, made him who he was today. 

It only seems right, then, that Zayn should be willing to give it all up again for them, right? They let Zayn take and take and take, and now Zayn should be willing to surrender it all for them. Right? Now Zayn should be willing to - 

"Compromise," he says the word out loud, testing its strength. But what kind of compromise? He could cut down on the shows he did, he could stay local - That might be fun. A neighborhood bar or something on weekend nights - 

He hears the sound of wheels crunching gravel and looks up. It's Liam making a sharp turn into the driveway, a look of concentration as he takes it full speed, strong thighs pedaling fast. He pulls into a rough stop in front of Zayn and dismounts easily, kicking the stand down with a grace Zayn has always envied. 

"Hey," he says, and he's still giddy with the exertion, windswept and flushed, and if they weren't fighting, Zayn would be taking off his clothes. As it is Zayn has trouble keeping his hands to himself when Liam sits down next to him, stretching out his legs and turning to look at Zayn, "I kissed you here for the first time," he says, smiling a little helplessly. 

Zayn swallows. 

"Yeah," he says, "Do you. Do you ever regret it?" 

He watches as Liam's eyes widen and darken with determination. He watches until he can't as Liam leans in, deliberate and tender, until he can cup Zayn's face and kiss him, fingers threading into the short hairs at the back of Zayn's neck to keep him close. He licks at the seam of Zayn's mouth until Zayn opens for him, and then he pulls him even closer, tilts into him to lick at the back of his teeth. With one hand he traces Zayn's thigh until he can thumb at the jut of his hip, anchor fingers along the crease of his waist. 

When he finally pulls back Zayn's lips are swollen and he's breathing heavily, hands fisted in Liam where he can reach him. Liam steeples their foreheads together, steals Zayn's breath. 

"Never," he breathes out fiercely, "I never - _Zayn_. How could you ever - " 

"Let's find a compromise," Zayn pleads, "Please? I fucking love you, Li. I would die for you. Giving up a bit of performing seems a little less important after that." 

Liam studies him for a long careful moment. 

"Okay," he says finally, quietly determined, "Okay. What did you have in mind?" 

"I'll tour three months out of the year," Zayn says, speaking fast, "Summer months. Months when you and Mack can come with me. She'll get to travel and see the world and I'll get to have you by my side and - " 

Liam cuts him off with a kiss, chaste and quick this time, but a promise nonetheless. 

"And for the rest of the year?" he asks, and his voice is intoxicating in the way it carries quiet hope. 

"I'll work on my music, I'll do some recording, I'll take care of my family," Zayn says, leaning in, tugging on Liam's collar to pull him down the rest of the way. "I'll take care of _you_ ," he murmurs, "Fix your coffee in the morning and finish Mack's mural and paint you naked." When they kiss this time it's easier, like falling into an old habit. Zayn sighs into it, greedy for more. 

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Liam asks him when Zayn finally lets him go, "That sounds a lot less glamorous than - " 

"I can't live without you," Zayn interrupts him, "Can't live without you or Mack or this family. If I'm sure about anything it's that." 

Liam attempts a watery smile. 

"Can't argue with that," he says quietly and Zayn kisses him to ease his doubts, stubborn and steady.

"Did we fix it?" Liam asks when they're out of breath. His eyes are dark with worry still but when Zayn nods his face breaks out into a smile that is _radiant_ with happiness, eyes crinkling up, fingers tightening in Zayn's hair. 

Zayn has to kiss him again, leaning in and slipping his fingers under Liam's shirt, searching for skin. Liam squirms with the cold but presses into the touch anyway, nipping at Zayn's lower lip and pulling a whimper from Zayn. 

"Fix anything, can't I?" Zayn says breathlessly, swallowing Liam's laugh up in another kiss, "Besides, who are we to go against fate?" 

 

"Dad, Zayn," Mack's voice filters into Zayn's consciousness through layers of warmth, " _Wake up_ , it's Christmas morning." 

Liam's arm tightens around his waist and Zayn can feel him smile reluctantly against his ear. 

"Mack," Liam grumbles, "S'like, barely light outside - " 

"C' _mon_ ," she whines, tugging at Zayn's arm where she can reach it. Zayn groans, refuses to open his eyes, stubbornly curling into Liam's grasp instead. Mack's giggle sounds far away. 

"Let's give Zayn a few more minutes ok?" Zayn can feel Liam's rumble of amusement through his skin, "Why don't you run and wake up Niall?" 

When she's gone, Liam begins to trail kisses down Zayn's neck, slips his hand under Zayn's shirt to trace along his ribs teasingly, nipping lightly at Zayn's skin and blowing warm air over Zayn's ear. Zayn whimpers helplessly: then he flushes when he realizes Liam's laughing at him. 

He twists to lie on his back, look up at Liam who's leaning on an elbow, hand splayed out possessively on Zayn's stomach. 

"Shut up," he whines, but he's smiling, reaching up to cup Liam's chin. Liam dips down to press a kiss to his palm. His eyes are bright with happiness, soft and fond and dopey with the early wake up call. 

"You're so beautiful," Liam tells him. The hand on his stomach travels dangerously low, scratching lightly at the sensitive skin over his hipbone. 

"Li - " Zayn protests weakly, arching into the touch despite himself, arching into _Liam_. 

"Kiss me," Liam demands softly, so Zayn tugs him down, licks into his mouth, tastes sleep breath and ordinary mornings. Liam makes a low hungry noise, slotting their legs together and aligning their hips. 

" _Liam_ , we haven't even - " he breaks off, gasping as Liam nips at his ear. 

"Yes?" Liam prompts, entirely too smug, and slides his hand between them to palm at Zayn's dick.

"Fuck - " Zayn bites out, "The door, Li, shouldn't we lock - " 

Liam rolls off him, splits his boxers and takes him in hand and Zayn moans, fucks up into his grip. 

"You'll just have to be quick," Liam murmurs, thumbing over the head, his pace contrasting slow. It's too dry but Zayn's gone too long without it, without this Liam who is boyish and young and carelessly in love. Zayn turns his head into the pillow, fists his hands in the sheets desperately. "God I love seeing you like this," Liam groans, and he sounds as wrecked as Zayn feels, "Love the way you fall apart for me. Fuck - " 

He kisses Zayn, tongue and teeth, fisting him faster, and Zayn feels pleasure build over him, fast and toe curling.

"Please," he whimpers, so easy for the way Liam touches him, "Li, please, want - " 

"C'mon babe," Liam takes him closer to the edge with hot open-mouthed kisses, "C'mon, want you to come for me. Can you? Can you come for me, sweetheart?" 

" _Liam_ ," Zayn's voice breaks around his name and he closes his eyes, gives in.

"Love you Zayn," Liam whispers, "Love you, love you, _love you_ \- " 

Zayn arches and comes, sensation spreading hot over him leaving his muscles shaky and his breath hitched. He fights heavy eyelids to watch Liam, left flushed with arousal, hunger in his eyes as he watches Zayn come undone, strokes him through it.

"You made a mess," Zayn scolds weakly when he can manage it, unable to keep the blissed out smile off his face, getting a hand under Liam's shirt to feel the way his heart beats electric. 

"No you," Liam sighs, nuzzling into Zayn's neck, giggling a little when Zayn turns and raises pointed eyebrows at him, "Fine, I take most responsibility. But can you blame me? I wake up next to the most beautiful boy in the world and - " 

"Liam," Zayn groans, covering his face with an arm to hide his blush. Liam presses a kiss to his elbow and then to his forehead when Zayn shifts to look up at him once more. 

"None of that," he teases gently, "Could ask about a million people and they'd all say the same thing - " 

"Shut up," Zayn grumbles, fighting his instinct to turn into Liam's shoulder and get come all over him. "You're - " 

" _Daddy_ ," Mack calls from down the hall. They hear her footsteps pattering down the wooden floor and in one motion they turn to each other, panicked. In an instant Liam's out of bed, tugging on a pair of sweats and closing the door behind him. Outside the room Zayn hears Liam say - 

"Hey Mack, what'd Santa bring this year?" 

"Daddy," Mack groans exasperatedly, "There's no such thing as Santa. But Uncle Niall and Uncle Harry and Uncle Louis got me lots of things." 

Zayn grins to himself, shaking his head fondly before summoning the energy to get out of bed and hop in the shower. 

 

When he finally emerges he finds the scene in the living room a lot quieter than he expected. Karen sits with her feet underneath her on the couch and Harry and Louis lay tangled up in each other on the floor and Mack is fiddling with something under the Christmas tree, a look of intense concentration on her face. From the kitchen Zayn can hear the soft laughter of Amy and Niall. 

"Where's Li?" Zayn asks, leaning to press a kiss to Karen's cheek, "Happy Christmas Karen," he says softly. She smiles up at him. 

"Happy Christmas honey," she returns. 

"Think Liam escaped the madness for a breath of fresh air," Harry adds, running a hand down Louis' arm lovingly. 

"Don't blame him," Louis puts in, "This one," he glares at Mack who sticks her tongue out at him without a missing a beat, "has way too much energy for so early in the morning." 

"It's eleven," Harry rolls his eyes. 

"It's the _principle_ of it," Louis retorts, biting at his chin. 

"Here," Zayn moves to sit beside Mack, hand her a black box, "This is for you Mack. Happy Christmas." 

She beams at him, takes the box with careful fingers and opens it slowly. When she sees it her eyes widen with awe. 

"This is for me?" she asks softly. 

"Yup," Zayn nods, smiling at her with his tongue behind his teeth, "Do you like it?" 

"I love it," she lifts the bracelet up to examine each charm carefully, "Did you make these?"

Zayn flushes a little. 

"I drew them up and sent the designs to someone to make," he tells her. "That's the Golden Gate Bridge, and that's Niagara Falls and that one's from - " 

"Harry Potter World," Mack says delightedly. Zayn grins. 

"Yeah. Smart girl. I'm going to take you once, okay? To all of these places. You and your dad." 

"Really?" she smiles up at him, soft and sweet, and Zayn cups a hand behind her head and brings her in to kiss her forehead. 

"Really," he promises. 

"Hey, give that hear, I want to see," Louis demands, detaching himself from Harry to crawl over to them. To Zayn he gives a warm pat on the shoulder and a nod towards the front door. Zayn smiles softly, nods back. 

 

Liam's standing with his back to the house, looking out at the grey-white sky. He's shivering a little so Zayn wraps himself around him from behind, rubs blood back into his arms. 

Liam starts a little, shifts to smile at Zayn over his shoulder before turning back around. 

"Thinking about the first time you kissed me again?" Zayn teases, kissing the soft skin under Liam's ear. Liam shudders. 

"Lots of things have happened on this doorstep," he says quietly. 

Zayn swallows. _Yeah_ , he thinks. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, but before he can say anything Liam is turning, uncrossing his arms to reveal a very thin package with a bow on top. 

"Here," he says shyly, "Merry Christmas Zayn." 

Zayn grins widely, tongue behind his teeth. 

"Can I open it?" he asks, excited despite his nerves. Liam rolls his eyes playfully. 

"You sound like Mack," he teases, "Course you can." He looks a little nervous himself and Zayn looks curiously at him for a moment before opening the small gift. It's a CD, plain except for a list of sloppily written tracks on it and Zayn looks up at Liam, confused. 

"What's this?" he asks. Liam buries his face in Zayn's neck for a moment. Zayn feels him breathe in. 

"They let me into your studio while you were gone," Liam says, muffling his answer into Zayn's chilly skin, "Helped me record a few songs for you. It's just piano of course and it's nothing like - like your stuff, but there are a few originals that I've been working on and I thought since you always share your music with me that - "

"Liam," Zayn breathes out reverently, pulling back to look at Liam. He's flushed, from the cold or embarrassment, Zayn doesn't know, but Zayn presses kisses to the color, presses kisses everywhere he can reach, overwhelmed, "You recorded a CD for me?" he manages finally, voice a little choked up. 

Liam shrugs but he's smiling again, a secret smile tugs the corner of his mouth up, makes him look ten years younger. 

"I love you," he says lightly, but his kiss, when he presses his lips to Zayn's, is wrought with emotion, a heady mix of hot and cold. 

"I love _you_ ," Zayn responds fervently when Liam breaks the kiss, nudging their noses together. "I - um, I've got something for you, too." When he reaches into his pocket his hand is steady. 

Liam's eyes widen when he sees the small black box, and he looks up to search Zayn's face, fingers tightening in Zayn's shirt. 

"It doesn't - I mean it doesn't have to be like, an _engagement_ ring or anything," Zayn says quickly, "I just. I wanted you to know that - I'm yours, Li. That I want to be yours forever. And - " 

"Show me," Liam cuts him off hoarsely, eyes darting between Zayn and the box. Zayn gulps, opens the box and holds it out to Liam, watching as awe spreads over him, "Oh my god, it's. It's _beautiful_ , Zayn - These are your designs, aren't they? God, I don't know what to say - " he looks up at Zayn with his bottom lip between his teeth, "Will you - " he holds out a hand for Zayn and Zayn starts. 

"What? Oh. Of course! Let me - " He fumbles with it, fingers made clumsy by the cold, but he manages to get the ring out, looks up to see Liam's smiling down at him, amused and fond. He looks down at Liam's hand and then up at him again, "Which finger should I - " 

"Ring finger, isn't it? Wait - " he closes his hand in a fist suddenly, "You've got to ask me first haven't you?" he says. He's fucking _glowing_ with happiness and suddenly all of the air leaves Zayn, leaves him light-headed and giddy. 

"Li. _Liam_ ," he breathes, "Are you sure?" 

"You'll just have to ask and see won't you?" Liam teases him, eyes crinkling up at the corners. 

"Fuck. I mean," Zayn stumbles and then clears his throat, looks up into Liam's eyes, "Liam Payne, would you do me the honor of marrying me?" 

"Yes," Liam says softly, biting his lip to keep his smile in check, "Yes, yeah, I will." 

Carefully, tenderly, Zayn slides the ring onto his finger, and then Liam is throwing his arms around him, kissing him throughly. Zayn smiles into the kiss, nips at Liam's lower lip gently until Liam huffs a laugh, smiles back against him. 

"Mine," Zayn says a little wonderingly, thumbing at Liam's lower lip. Liam bites at it, grinning. 

"Always was," he says softly, bumping their heads together. He looks down between them at his hand, fingers splayed out, the ring catching light from the sun as she makes her way up to the peak of the day, "Looks awfully good on me, if I do say so myself." 

"It does," Zayn agrees good-naturedly, "Who designed it again?" 

Liam laughs. 

"How _did_ I manage to find a man of so many talents?" he asks innocently. 

"Fate," Zayn tells him, lacing their fingers together, the ring cold and heavy and perfect between them. 

"Fate," Liam echoes, bringing their hands up to his lips to kiss Zayn's knuckles, "And beautiful music."


End file.
